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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27924979">live by the sword</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/dogworldchampion/pseuds/dogworldchampion'>dogworldchampion</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>PIERCE Tamora - Works, Tortall - Tamora Pierce</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Homesickness, Kaddar is a fan of his fiancee with a sword, Kalasin misses Tortall, Swordplay</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 20:40:20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,738</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27924979</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/dogworldchampion/pseuds/dogworldchampion</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Kalasin traced the enamel raven on the hilt of her sword for a moment, finding comfort in its grooves and contours, the same textures she’d felt on the weapons of her loved ones for longer than she could remember. She’d never thought to appreciate it before, but suddenly, her throat felt tight at the thought of playing with the hilt of her father’s dagger while he perched her on one hip, at the memory of sprinting through the winter snows at the palace, her first sword, a Midwinter gift from Aunt Alanna, held triumphantly in her fist.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Kaddar Iliniat/Kalasin of Conté</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>43</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>live by the sword</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>tumblr prompt: "kalasin + sword"</p><p>(i'm @the-pontiac-bandit there if you want to send your thoughts, or send me more prompts!)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Kalasin would call herself a fair hand with a sword. Had she been a knight, she could have been great. She still dreamed, sometimes, of her blade flashing through the air like Alanna the Lioness’, its speed causing the air to sing in its wake as she fought the Realm’s enemies in the same royal armor her brother wore. Instead, though, she had trained doggedly, her mother putting a sword in her hand and shoving her off to find a knight to practice with. Sir Raoul had been patient and encouraging. Sir Geoffrey hadn’t gone easy on her, even when she was a girl of only twelve, still tripping over her own feet more often than not. Sir Alanna--Kalasin’s favorite adoptive relative was Aunt Alanna everywhere except the training yards--was fierce and difficult to please, encouraging her to be stronger, faster, <em>better</em>. Sir Gareth was Kalasin’s personal favorite, though, because while the others had left her, sometimes one at a time, others all at once, off in a service she’d never perform, Sir Gareth was at the practice courts each morning she was at the palace, sword in hand, ready to teach.</p><p>She thought of all of her teachers as she unpacked her sword. Her new chambers were tastefully decorated in the Tortallan style. It felt familiar and comforting, in the midst of this new palace where everything was strange. She suspected her husband-to-be must have had a hand in it--even in the short three days she’d known him, he’d shown himself to be far more kind and considerate than she’d imagined possible of anyone whose title was <em>your Imperial Majesty</em>. Her sword shone, having been polished with care by her youngest brother Jasson as he sat on her bed at home and pretended to help her pack. She traced the enamel raven on the hilt for a moment, finding comfort in its grooves and contours, the same textures she’d felt on the weapons of her loved ones for longer than she could remember. She’d never thought to appreciate it before, but suddenly, her throat felt tight at the thought of playing with the hilt of her father’s dagger while he perched her on one hip, at the memory of sprinting through the winter snows at the palace, her first sword, a Midwinter gift from Aunt Alanna, held triumphantly in her fist.</p><p>To shake off the feeling, she pulled off her veil--an unpleasant necessity she hoped to eliminate from Carthaki fashion as soon as she’s been crowned--and kicked off her delicate Carthaki slippers. Her chambers were large, easily large enough for a few simple passes. She was certain she would not be allowed to train publicly in this new, strange land, but even His Imperial Majesty could not prevent her from practicing here.</p><p>She began one of the drills she knew best, warming up her muscles with the simple combinations of blocks and strikes. The warm air felt suffocating, daring her lungs to burn as she pushed her body further. She felt the pins holding her hair back fall, heard them clatter onto the stone floors, but she only paused long enough to kick them under her bed, where they wouldn’t cause her to trip. She’d intended only to swing the blade once or twice, to loosen her shoulders in an attempt to loosen the knot she felt in her chest, but the harder she worked, the more relief she found. Her straining muscles, exhausted by the weight of the weapon and the weight of her heavy dress, worthy of an empress, protested each pass. Her calves burned, unused to the exercise after days at sea, followed by days of pretending to be a proper and worthy bride. Despite the pain--or perhaps because of it--she found herself starting to grin, her breath coming harsh between her teeth.</p><p>The knock on her door was loud, loud enough to startle her. By its insistent tone, she guessed that her guest had knocked several times, but that she had been too engrossed in her swordplay to notice. She spared a moment’s regret for her hair, cascading down her back in an unladylike tangle, and for her veil, which would take minutes to affix properly to her head, before she opened the door, doing her best to control her breath.</p><p>It was Kaddar. She could have sworn, for just a moment, she saw a hint of surprise in his dark eyes. It was gone as quickly as it appeared, if it was ever there--he could hide his emotions better than any Yamani, she’d discovered in her days at the Carthaki court. His eyes flicked down, to the sword still in her hand, his expression unreadable.</p><p>She dropped the sword, wincing as it clattered to the floor, and bent her protesting legs in a deep curtsy. “Your Imperial Majesty, to what do I owe the honor?”</p><p>“Please, don’t,” was his reply, even as he bowed deeply in return. “Lady Lynette mentioned that you’d chosen to unpack your belongings yourself, and after the meeting with the goldsmiths’ guild, I thought I’d come offer my aid.” He smiled then, a true smile that reached his eyes. It warmed them, making him seem far more like the gangly teenager that Daine had described in agonizing detail to a nervous Kalasin than the self-assured emperor who had met her on the docks.</p><p>“Oh,” was all Kalasin could manage for a moment, doing her best to hide her shock. She could hear the Countess of King’s Reach groaning good-naturedly at Kalasin’s inarticulate response, but the Countess was now an ocean away. “I would never expect such help from Your Imperial Majesty,” she replied courteously. “But if you wish to join me in my chambers, I’d welcome your esteemed company.” She patted her back internally at the response, proud to salvage her initial shock.</p><p>“Truly, it’s Kaddar,” he smiled, stepping through the doorway. Kalasin stepped back, allowing him to pass, but instead he paused at her side. He bent down and picked up her sword, examining it with care and a hint of awe in his guarded eyes. “You fight?”</p><p>Kalasin’s hand went to her hair, intending to twirl a strand--a nervous habit she thought she’d shaken years ago only to discover it had returned with her move to Carthak--and found instead that the combination of fallen braids and complex swordplay had rendered it a veritable birds’ nest. “I was trained on the sword,” she replies, pausing for a fraction of a second as she weighed his name against his title before deciding to avoid addressing him entirely. “I still find joy in the practice, although I certainly would never expect to use it in combat.”</p><p>“Would you show me?” he asked, in a tone devoid of all imperial grandeur. It was not a command, not even an imperial request. It was kind, and he sounded as though he was already prepared for her to politely demur and redirect the conversation.</p><p>She knew that she could refuse, knew that every lady in both the Tortallan and Carthaki courts would have thought her mad not to. Instead, though, she reached a hand out for her sword. He handed it back wordlessly, retreating to take a seat on a chaise in the corner while she took a moment to shake out her shoulders.</p><p>She began one of her more complex drills, praying to the Goddess she wouldn’t stumble on the unfamiliar floors or take a chunk out of her beautiful teak four-poster a few feet away. If she was showing him she could fight, she intended to <em>show </em>him, after all.</p><p>She could see her blade flash in front of her, but she knew better than to follow its path. She kept her eyes trained ahead, utilizing the wardrobe a yard in front of her as an imaginary foe. It would not serve, Sir Geoffrey had reminded her over and over, to be distracted by the beauty of the blade and lose track of one’s opponent. She was light on her toes, thanks to hours of drills with the surprisingly agile Sir Raoul, and sure in her movements, thanks to Sir Gareth’s consistency in her training. Sir Alanna’s speed, and the wickedness with which she fought, were imbued in her style, and in the slashing strike with which she finished the drill, drawing the blade halfway across her body before whipping it back around her left side to finish with the point directly at the wardrobe’s imaginary throat.</p><p>She stood, truly panting now, as Kaddar started to laugh. She felt her cheeks burn as she moved to the bed and re-sheathed her sword. She put off looking at him, staring at the enamel raven for another few seconds until it would have been rude to continue avoiding his gaze.</p><p>When she turned, though, she was surprised to find joy on his face. His laugh was not mocking, she could see. It was delighted.</p><p>“That was excellent, although I don’t know how I expected anything less, with Alanna the Lioness as your godsmother. You’re quite a sight with a blade in hand,” he grinned. “And I’ve no doubt you could hold your own against any Carthaki knight.”</p><p>“Thank you,” she replied as she felt the shame sliding off her shoulders, leaving them feeling light despite the strain she’d just put on them. Her muscles still burned, her lungs still screamed for air, but she’d once again found the wide, genuine smile she’d had alone in her chamber.</p><p>Another knock on the door startled them both this time. He rose to open it, and she could see from behind that his shoulders fell. His prime minister was at the door, looking frantic with a large stack of papers weighing down his arms. Kaddar turned back to her, the disappointment even clearer on his face.</p><p>“I have to go, it seems. But I practice the sword each morning at the first bell after dawn, at the practice courts on the southwest corner of the training yards. I’d really appreciate the company, as all my current sparring partners are far too concerned about my status to give me a proper fight.”</p><p>“I’d like that,” she replies, a small warmth filling her chest where it had felt knotted with grief that morning. “I’ll do my best to provide a challenge," she paused again before adding, "Kaddar.”</p>
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